Tsureteitte
by SerinaGyrfalc
Summary: A child in the cold streets of a cold city with only a reflection of himself as his only comfort. He seeks something beyond the cold with nothing to help him in finding the warmth. Syaoran's past. mild blood. spoilers until Vol.9. Finished.
1. Endless Road

**Tsureteitte**

**Tusbasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE**

**By Unfinished Song**

**Part One: Endless Road**

_Cold... _

The cold soaked through his cloths to his skin, freezing him and making his body ach, but it wasn't the only cause of his discomfort. His right hand and left foot throbbed in time with his heart, the near numbness of the cold rain not enough to disembody the pain that resided in each, especially his right eye. It felt like the entire right side of his head was going to explode from the agony and if it wouldn't have caused him unimaginable pain him he would have curled into a ball simply to protect that one hurt from the elements. If that eye had hurt anymore he wasn't even sure he would have been able to think.

_It hurts…_

He didn't know he'd entered the darkness of his inner mind until he found himself awakening once more to the same scenery that had greeted him. Coming into awareness once again from the darkness of the strange dreamless sleep, he automatically attempted to open his eyes, only to be greeted by the searing torment of pain that flooded the senses of his right. There was a soft sound, high and hitched, and in his delirious state he didn't realize that it was him: crying from the pain.

Frightened by the unknown and determined to see, he tried to open just his left eye, but despite his effort to keep the right shut, the lid caked with dried and fresh blood twitched harshly against its reflex action, sending a new wave of pain through his head under the rubbery cold blanket of cold and numbness. His voice whimpered with the sound of hurt, but he was so confused by the swarms of sensations and incomprehension that he tried again, painfully clenching the hurt eye shut to pry open his left so he could see. He only managed a bare slit, a feeling of weakness so strong and agonizing it made the light burn through his one good eye, making his head hurt all the more. Again on reflex he found himself closing his eyes almost too tightly, sending a new wave of pain through his right. Even breathing was making him hurt.

_Why am I hurt?_

For a time he chose to just lay there. He wasn't sure how long he stayed still after his first try to get control of his body. He hoped in not moving maybe the pain would ebb enough for him to open his eyes with ease, but the longer he lay there the colder he could feel his body becoming from the relentless rain. He knew he couldn't stay there. Though he couldn't grasp the concept of death in the strange blankness that shrouded his thoughts faintly with panic he understood that his body was getting colder and though it did take away the pain, it took away his normal senses, too. If he got too cold, maybe he wouldn't be able to get up. That is if he ever managed to gather the courage to face the pain and try again.

Deciding on a new approach, he kept his eyes shut as he tried moving his arms and legs. The pain thrust anew through various wounds he hadn't realized were there other than that of his right hand, right eye, and left foot. Each intake of breath hurt, his left knee had a grinding sensation when he pulled it in a half bend, and his back muscles twitched from where they'd been pulled to the point of strain. He felt as though he had been beaten brutally, left to regain consciousness, then beaten again repeatedly.

Still, this effort was proving to not be nearly as bad as when he'd attempted to open his eyes. Being sure not to grimace his face and cause new pain from the wound of his right eye, he carefully pulled his hands under his shoulders, his right not moving quite as easily as it should have. Tensing his legs, he lifted his upper body and pushed the weight so that it was balanced on his folded knees and hands. His right hand pounded with agony, but he wasn't on the muddy ground anymore. With a push he felt a surge of small triumph when his upper body left the weight of his hands and settled onto his hips, finally sitting in a slightly slouched posture. His left leg complained bitterly to him, the grinding sensation in his knee becoming a constant pain that cut like a knife each time his weight moved even just a little. He was feeling dizzy and his stomach churned from the pain placed on his limbs, but he knew he couldn't stay where he was.

_Where… am I?_

Determined to open his eyes, he brought his right hand up and carefully brushed it against his brow, testing just how much it hurt. The bare brushing of his hand over the closed lid stung sharply, but his determination was strong. He wanted to see where he was.

Only giving his body a moment to brace itself he forced the heel of his hand against the wounded eye. Pain stabbed into his skull like a hot poker through where he should have been able to see, yet he ignored it, adding more pressure so that his hand could hold the eye firmly shut. Though his hand was half numb and hurting, it didn't stop him from feeling where blood slowly oozed from the injury, crossing over a layer that had congealed into a solid rough mass down his cheek and part of his neck. Taking a deep breath that made his ribs hurt he pushed harder, knowing somehow that the action would help ebb the bleeding.

Unfortunately, despite his resolve his body trembled from agony and finally his stomach refused him, forcing him to balance on his left hand while his belly emptied itself of its contents, which was nothing more that a bit of bile, leaving him to suffer through the dry heaves that only helped add to his suffering.

He was still dry heaving from the agony of holding his hand over his eye when he finally opened the left without even thinking about the action. He saw the yellowish stuff that had once been in him mixing with the mud and the rain water. Its smell and sight was enough to send him into another set of dry heaves, making his stomach clench and his sides ripple with pain.

As the wave passed he found himself balancing on his arm in a slumped position, his hot forehead touching the cold mud. It would feel good to just close his eyes and sleep… go back to the darkness he knew before waking to this agony…

But… if he stayed here wouldn't his body keep getting colder and colder? What would he do if he woke up and couldn't move because he was so cold his entire body had gone numb? No, he couldn't just go back to sleep. Not yet. With another surge of determination he forced his feet under him to push up, lifting him to stand. Again his stomach clenched but he forced it down, knowing there was nothing left for him to throw up.

The surroundings that greeted his sight were dreary and dark, the rain making everything seem a little fuzzier than normal. He was on some kind of dirt road beside a river, the waters already higher than normal, making the current unusually quick. Slowly he turned in a circle, but all he saw was the road, the river, and the rain. Nothing or anyone was around, and there was nothing he could use to try to figure out which way to go. Disheartened, he looked down to his feet.

The crimson mixed with the mud surprised him.

All around his feet where he had lain for an unknown span of time was blood mixed with the moistened soil of the roadway. It expanded in little rivulets, tenting the puddles it touched pink and stretched too far. Seeing the amount of blood that had come out of his body made him start shaking and hurting anew, his teeth chattering harshly as he shivered from both cold and pain. Maybe he was also shivering from blood loss? His mind was too young to comprehend that as another reason for his trembling but he did understand that the amount of blood on the ground was his and that large amount wasn't a good thing.

With no guide, he picked a direction and started to slowly limp down it, his left leg sending a sharp punch of pain up his heel and toes to merge with the pain of his grinding knee before it traveled along his nerves. He hugged his free arm around his sides in an almost automatic motion to comfort the pain of breathing. The jarring motion of each step hurt his eye, which he made sure to force his hurt right hand to stay over so he could hold his left open with ease to see.

But he couldn't stay there. If he lay down to sleep there on the road he would probably wake up too cold to move, and there was no one around to ask why.

_I don't understand… Why am I here? What happened?_

With his determination and resolve as his only weapons, he continued to trudge down the rain ridden muddy road, leaving dribbles of blood behind like the bread trail from _Hansel and Gretel_.

He was too young to really understand the truth. Or maybe he knew and just didn't remember. If he lay down to sleep the truth was he would probably die of hyperthermia. If he hadn't covered his head injury he would keep losing strength from the blood that continued to flow from the wound at a constant tap.

He was too young to understand that with each drop of blood he lost from his hurts, he was another minute closer to greeting the darkness of eternal sleep.

Oblivious to it all, he kept on walking, leaving only the drops of blood behind as he traveled down the seemingly endless road.


	2. Last Strength

**Tsureteitte**

**Tsubasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE**

**By Unfinished Song**

**Part 2: Last Strength**

As he took yet another countless step onto his left foot his leg gave way yet again, sending him crashing into the muddy ground for the umpteenth time. Just as he had done so many times before he attempted to catch himself on his left hand, doing his best to keep his throbbing right eye covered, but this time unlike the others his landing was wrong. The wrist twisted in a painful angle, spraining the tendons and sending him flopping gracelessly on his side. A crash of thunder peeled out loudly above him as though in laughter at his plight. A choked sob caused by both pain and misery escaped from his tightly closed throat as he tried to get back to his feet, ignoring the throbbing of his left wrist as it complained bitterly. Biting his lower lip to help himself keep from crying, he pushed his right foot under him and rose yet again to keep walking down the seemingly endless road.

He had only taken a couple of steps when his left leg refused him yet again. As before he attempted to catch himself, but his wrist, already hurt from the last fall, gave a twist again, the tendons too strained to support what he wanted it to do. There was a pop as something inside that wasn't bone snapped loose. He fell upon his side, his face twisted with the effort to hold his tears in, making his right eye hurt with a new kind of pain. Again he bit his lip to keep the shivering sobs inside. He unknowingly bit so hard that it bled. The metallic taste blended unnoticed with the one that was already dancing though his mouth. He had long since grown used to the taste of the blood that ran from his eye down his face, its trail brushing the corner of his mouth.

_How far does this road go? Where am I trying to get to?_

Seeing that his left hand would be of no more use for balance, he tried to push himself up onto his elbows, just enough to get his knees under him so he could get up. That's all he needed and he could keep going… where? Why was he trying so hard to keep traveling down this endless muddy road? It took him a moment to remember his reason, why he had chosen to focus his determination on putting one foot in front of the other.

_Oh yeah. If I stop, I'll get too cold to move._

He tried again to get to his feet. He wiggled his elbow under his upper body and lifted, raising his chest that was coated in a mix of blood and mud up off the path. He pulled his legs under him, raising himself onto his knees, and for a time he stay balanced that way, resting his weight on his elbow and his hurting knees. Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he threw his weight onto his left knee, attempting to push himself up with his right. His knee scorched with agony along his by now raw nerves and gave out, refusing to hold his weight. He fell, exhausted onto his side in the mud of the road.

_It hurts. It hurts so bad…! I feel like I could die…_

He tried once more what he decided would be his one final time to get up, but the effort was no more than a bare lift off the ground before his strength gave out completely. The cold bit deep into him all the way to the core of his bones. He was so cold he didn't think he'd ever be warm ever again. The cold had been so persistent and solid that after a time of walking the pain that burned along his various hurts had become an almost welcome fire. It was the only thing that was keeping his freezing nerves from going completely numb. But now even the pain wasn't enough to make him able to keep moving.

It wasn't just the rain that was making everything slightly hazy anymore. His vision kept phasing in and out in time with his heart and his body shook violently from cold and blood loss. The cold was everywhere, and no matter what he tried he couldn't make the pain stop even for a moment. He closed his eyes, letting his cramping right hand finally fall away. He could feel the blood flow anew from under his closed eyelid like crimson tears, but he was so tired he didn't even twitch his right hand in attempt to lift it and stave the bleeding.

Maybe if he rested just for a little bit he could get up again. To rest for just a little while in the bliss of dark unconsciousness would be a welcome reprieve from the agony of the cold and the pain and the mental hurt brought on by his blank-thought confusion. There was so much that was clouding his thoughts, yet there was nothing there to cloud them, and that was what was making things so hard to understand. His mind, his memory, his feelings, all of it felt as though it had never existed until the moment that felt like it was now days ago; the moment he had awakened beaten, bloody, and alone on the endless dirt road.

_Yes. I'll rest… just for a little while._

In truth he didn't honestly expect to ever wake up again.


	3. Stranger In The Mirror

**Tsureteitte**

**Tsubasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE**

**By Unfinished Song**

**Part 3: Stranger In The Mirror**

_I'm… alive?_

There was heaviness to his body as he slowly returned to awareness. He felt as though he had been asleep in the darkness forever. Everything about his body felt too stiff, as though there was something restricting it. He tried moving his right hand and felt the tightness around it, lessening its mobility. His eye cracked open before he could think to keep it close to protect his right eye. Too groggy to notice his right eye didn't hurt from the motion, he blinked, trying to clear his sleep-fogged vision. It really did feel like he had been asleep for years.

Though he should have probably cared about why nothing hurt him as much as before, he was still too cold, sore, tired, and confused to bother with making sense of it just then. Touching his left hand to his face, he wiped his good eye, his grimy fingers brushing against something on his brow that hadn't been there before. _That_ made him care, bringing him to full attention. He felt around his head to find something had been wrapped there, and it extended to fully shelter his right eye.

This surprise spurred him the rest of the way awake, and he sat up suddenly. He was further shocked to find that moving didn't hurt nearly as much as it had before. The lack of pain he had felt earlier wasn't because of the cold after all. Looking down at his being he saw that his right hand and left leg had been bandaged. He touched his hands to his sides and could feel that the tightness under his cloths where gauze had been wrapped around his hurting ribs, easing the pain of breathing. When he slowly stood he could feel the lack of mobility in his left knee where more strips of the white cloth had been wrapped tightly around it to act as a makeshift brace.

This wasn't the only change in his surroundings. The rain had slackened while he was asleep. True he was still cold in such a way that the feeling of warmth felt like something that would never exist again, but now he could see further, and he felt just a little bit more energy than he'd had before. Down one side of the road he had though possessed no end he could see gates that led into a city. He had no idea how he knew, but somehow he had the feeling that if he went through those gates he'd find people. But…

_What will I do then? Who made the pain go away? Who gave me these bandages?_

Those were the thoughts that haunted the part of his mind that wasn't focused on keeping his balance. His left leg was unsteady, and the soles of his feet were sore from walking without protection on rocks and gravel hidden under the icy layer of mud along the road, despite the obvious care they'd been given by a mysterious stranger. He wanted to look and make sure his feet were alright, but he didn't dare to stop and check them with his weak balance. It was hard enough keeping track of how far he could step. Things that looked far were actually close and things that seemed close he found to be a bit too far. Not only that but sometimes the objects in his sight would seem further to the left or right than they actually were. Even on the mostly even road it made taking even a few steps more difficult than it should have been. Combine that with his amount of blood loss and the cold his body was suffering and it was a wonder he was even standing at all.

It was true that his pace was slow, each small step taken with extra care, but even so it was it only took a short time for him to pass under the gates into the city and down the street that would eventually lead to the main square. He walked down the main path, the cobblestones nearly nonexistent under the numb, tattered soles of his feet.

The people around him looked at him strangely, yet despite his apparent neglected condition of tattered, muddy, bloody cloths, and bandages, not a single one of them stopped to ask him if he was alright or if he was lost. As he passed one such person, he felt himself open his mouth to say something to them, but just as he did, he found the blank confusion fogging his mind again. The passerby kept on going, staring at him with a strange mixed expression of both fright and fascination. The boy closed his mouth, not having been able to say anything to the person because of the unknowing that ate at his mind.

_What do I say to them?_

He wanted to ask someone where he was, why he was there, what had happened to him, anything, but he had no idea how to approach someone. Every time he'd consider it his mind would be enveloped in that mysterious white blankness of 'what is it I'm supposed to do' that he couldn't fully understand. Finally he gave up the weak attempts, concentrating instead on how he was supposed to talk to people and why he couldn't figure out how.

_Am I afraid of them deep down inside? Is it because of what happened to me that I don't remember? Strange… even before I woke up with these bandages on… that time is starting to disappear from my mind._

_I wish I knew what to do. What happened to me? Where am I from? Was I running away from something? Or was it something else?_

_How did I end up here?_

The people of the city were much different than he had thought they would be, that was a certainty. To each person who passed him, he appeared as an injured child walking the streets alone in the late evening, his steps slow and wobbly whilst his single eye remained haunted and emotionless as it gazed forward. Many found them selves stopping to gaze in the curiosity of those that see the true horror of death; a reaction commonly nicknamed 'train-wreak syndrome'. For each time he felt the trembling eyes on him, he would look up with his empty sphere of amber and wait for an answer to his unspoken questions. Though he didn't know what to say them, maybe they would. Maybe they would help him if he showed he noticed them looking at him.

_Please help me_, he silently begged.

But no one stopped to give him an answer. Not one. They all tore their eyes off him bare moments after meeting that strange eye that was as empty as a doll's and kept on walking on their way to whatever errand they were off to accomplish. Soon, the streets began to empty and by this time his vision was blurring again. Still, he tried to keep walking, to find someone, to find an answer.

A flash of lightening, a peel of thunder, a single misstep and he found himself face down on the water sodden cobble stones of the street. It hurt, but he'd been so surprised it hadn't even occurred to him to cry out as the wind was knocked half out of him. He raised himself onto his knees, leaning forward on his hands much like he had done earlier when he had forced his battered body up off of the road. He raised his eye and saw what few people that remained on the streets staring at him, children clinging to their parent's hands asking with open innocence if the little boy was alright. By nature of things, the parents like everyone else turned away, hushing their curious children and bustling off in any direction that took them out of sight of the little boy.

It wasn't their problem, and they shouldn't get involved with it.

He looked to his right as natural reaction to attempt to get his bearings. He came face to face with a child he didn't know whom stared back at him. It was a boy that to him seemed his age with a gentle featured face and soft brown hair. One eye was covered in white gauze while the other amber orb stared at him with equal curiosity, his black cloths just as rain soaked as his own.

"Who is that?"

The reflection broke and refracted itself over and over as though there were a mirror on each side of the two boys reflecting them over and over indefinitely at the sound of his voice. There was a stab of pain from his right eye and the sounding of a strange tone almost like a chime that echoed deep inside his thoughts beneath the clash of thunder overhead.

The unique moment lasted only a bare moment, a few seconds at most, and was over. The other boy continued to stare back at him.

It was the first time he'd spoken since he first had awoken on the endless road. As he asked the question aloud the other boy's mouth had moved at exactly the same, but no sound came out of it, as though he were the only one speaking and the other just a mime of his actions. Surprised, he slowly lifted his right hand.

The other boy did the same.

Panic was starting to well up in his chest. This wasn't right. There was something wrong. Something was horribly wrong. He leaned back on his left hand to look at what was near the boy, the other still copying his motions. The dull wooden frame that had been left out in the weather by a careless shop keeper caught his eye. The other boy wasn't really a boy at all. The boy was…

"…A mirror…"

His breathing was getting too fast. The panic was growing too much. He could feel his heart beating in terror as he realized why his mind was so blank. Now he knew why he felt so bewildered and could find nothing in his mind to refer any of the things around him to.

He clutched his head as he screamed a heart breaking cry that if there had been anyone still on the street, they may have actually shown the lost child some form of concern or even pity. But there was nothing to comfort him. He screamed and sobbed and screamed more until his throat was as sore as the rest of his body and only the most pitiful of whimpers could make it past the rawness that had once been his voice.

His whole body trembled as he tried to calm down, but even after crying and screaming so much the terror was still there as strong as it was when he had first realized what had happened to him. Whimpers tore out of his body that would have become screams if his throat wasn't so pained. Tears continued to stream down his face, mixing with the rain. Now he understood why everything was so strange and blank. Not only did he not have knowledge of where he was or how he had gotten himself hurt.

_The reason I'm so lost isn't that I don't remember how I got hurt…_ _It's because I have **no** memories! **None!**_

_I don't know who I am!_


	4. The Unwanted

**Tsureteitte**

**Tsubasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE**

**By Unfinished Song**

**Part 4: The Unwanted**

It rained a lot in the city. The rain was cold and unrelenting, not unlike the inhabitants of the land upon which it fell. It had taken time but he had built his shield. It wasn't something that could be touched or broken. What protected him was a wall to hide away his emotions of fear, anxiety, and sorrow deep in the emptiness where his memories should have been. He was unaware that in doing so he allowed those emotions become his memories and permitted them to manifest themselves into the only thing he'd ever known.

The only thing he despised about his shield was how it made his chest feel. It made him cold; so very cold. He didn't like being so cold but that's all there was for him, and the cold was his own. It was the only thing he possessed aside from his pain, hollowness, and loneliness. Warmth didn't even exist for him in his dreams.

Dreams… they were confusing things that tantalized him with flashes of things he felt he should know. Each time he opened his eyes the dreams were gone completely, not even leaving a whisper of their memory behind to feel the empty void of his thoughts. Each time he managed to grasp a part of the dream as he opened his eyes for another day of existence without purpose he tried his best to hold onto it, but the trials of the day and the cold and the hurt easily smothered the remembered detail until it was forgotten.

Everyday he sat against the wall of one of the neglected streets, watching people pass by, some slowing as they noticed him, others ignoring him all together. At the point he'd reached he didn't even care. What should he care about? He had no memory of ever holding anything dear. The only thing he could remember with a certainty was cold, pain, and loss. The passing pedestrians were just movement before his eyes, his gaze not even following or meeting any of them as it had done before during his first days in the strange place. He hugged his knees tight against his boney chest in a vain attempt to resist the constant cold that plagued him both inside and out.

A shiver ran through his half-starved frame originating both from the ever present near painful cold and the dark fear he did his best to keep buried. It was terrifying not knowing who he was, where he was from, and how he had gotten to this cold city with cold rain and cold people. He squelched the thoughts quick enough, knowing to push them back into the corner of his empty head where they wouldn't hurt him. Replacing those lonely thoughts was a solid icy coldness that settled in the pit of his stomach and gripped tightly around his fragile heart. So many things frightened him, but he had learned over the last few days to ignore them by burying them deep into the blank vastness where his memories should have resided.

_How many days have I been here? Five? Ten? I haven't bothered_ _to count them. Why should I count these days that only hold such cold memories?_

There were a lot of things he had learned during his stay in the cold city. By watching people he had learned what he could eat, what kind of people to avoid, when to run and hide, and where he could sleep without being bothered.

Food had been his first and most terrible problem. For the first two days he hadn't eaten a thing, not knowing what he could and couldn't eat anymore. He had watched a family eat a feast from a safe distance through their warm window. They all seemed so happy, laughing and smiling and talking with each other without a care in the world.

It was like looking through a rip in time at a foreign world that was beyond his reach.

The man of the family hadn't bothered to try to keep the left-over food for later and had thrown it out in the trash. He had waited an entire hour in the shadows, not moving to make sure the man wouldn't come back out before he finally ran over to the garbage and peered at the discarded meal. By the time he had run over to it rain had sodden into it and bits and liquids from the other items in the trash had mixed in. For anyone else it would have been inedible.

He'd eaten it. He'd had to hold to his determination not to starve to force the stagnated remnants of what had once been a feast and was then waste down. His dry throat and he had almost thrown it right back up several times, but something in him drove him on, made him want to keep living even if it was in such a dilapidated state.

Time kept passing, and he kept scavenging food, running from all people that came near him, and sleeping in nooks and crannies throughout the various alleyways. Before long he'd gained a reputation through the city as a mad child that lived like a rabid dog in the dark corners of the city. Such a thing didn't matter to him except they gave him a title, the closest thing to a name he remembered ever having.

It wasn't a good name.

He had found out about it when he was walking down the rainy streets, looking for a decent spot to sit for a while before his weakened legs gave out on him. There were a couple of women gossiping as most bored housewives tended to do and as they noticed him walking one had exclaimed, calling him by the title that had become his name.

"My goodness, look it's The Unwanted!"

He had stopped and stared at them at those words. Each took a step back at the strange look he gave them before quickly turning and walking as fast as their dignity permitted in the opposite direction he had been traveling. He tried to push it down, hold it tight in the bonds of the frozen chains he had made on his tormented emotions, but it was too much, too painful for him to hold back.

He'd taken off running through the street then, not caring who he ran into, who screamed at him from brushing too close, or who noticed. If he ran far enough maybe he could get away from the feeling that was eating him alive slowly as it crawled up out of the depths of his blank memory like an awakened beast.

_The Unwanted. The Unwanted. The Unwanted! The Unwanted!_

He tripped and just lay there, not caring he had hurt his left knee all over again and cried into the pavement, releasing the sorrow that had awoken inside his shield and torn it down as though he had built it out of a deck of cards. That was why no one would help him, touch him, look at him with warmth or give him warmth: he was unwanted.

Now, a mere few hours after the revolution of his existence, he sat on the side of the street, all emotions a fine blank to him once more and buried deep beneath his heart beyond his reach. His knee still throbbed painfully from where he fell, but he was used to constant pain and constant cold.

A mirror on display in a store window across the street caught his eye, the reflection of the starving, muddy, neglected boy staring back at him. A peel of thunder, the sound of two things striking, a stab of pain in his bandaged eye, and the reflection refracted, showing his image over and over. For a split instant, he wondered if it was more than his reflection looking back at him. He looked away, used to the illusion caused by his hunger and weakness, burying his face in his arms to attempt sleep in the cold rainy evening.

"_Tsureteitte_," he whispered. It was his goodbye to the illusion he had thought up himself-the only small pleasure activity, he allowed himself in his world of ice and harshness.

It was the only thing he asked for, yet he could never ask an actual living creature for it, for _tsureteitte_. For him, in his mind, he knew it was a wish that would never come true.

_Tsureteitte…_


	5. Warmth

**Tsureteitte**

**Tsubasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE**

**By Unfinished Song**

**Part 5: Warmth**

Another day, another breath, another beat of his heart, another meal that made him sick, and he kept living despite the kind of existence it was. Knowing nothing else except the few glimpses he stole through windows when he felt no eyes upon him, he had no true concept of just how much better his life could be. He would wonder often how the people in the streets managed to walk with their heads held so high and their steps so full of energy and purpose. He had no way of knowing it was because they had a home and he did not, for he didn't know the true meaning of the word 'home'. He just lived, moving from one street to another, one alley to another, one trashcan to another, all the while he struggled his best to keep going for just one more day so that dark sleep could take him to the only place he was truly at peace; in his dreams.

_What drives me? Why do I keep going?_

The questions always haunted him as he looked out of his little alley at the empty street. The rain was especially hard this day, and pounded in unrelenting sheets over the cobblestones and pavement. His body trembled violently beneath the water, reflexively trying and failing to fight the extra cold it brought him. He knew he was getting too cold, just like when he had first woken up, and that he should try to find somewhere more sheltered, but right at that moment he didn't truly care. He was tired, hungry, cold, and alone.

_What's the point?_

So he stayed there, huddled with his knees against his boney frame, hugging them close and staring out of the ally at the empty street. His cloths were more worn than before, having slowly become thinner with wear and tear, and the bandages that protected his many hurts were dirty and starting to come lose little by little. The constant exposure to the rain didn't help his condition either.

He sighed, lowering his head into his arms, slightly warm tears running down the left side of his face that were quickly washed away by the rain. He didn't know why he was crying. His face didn't contort nor did his heart hurt or any of the other reactions that usually accompanied the tears of a small child. The tears just came, slowly making their way down his cold cheek, and he discarded his attempt to figure out why they were there.

He didn't know his heart and feelings had become so warped by his hardships that they were truly sealed away beneath an icy shield of his own making. He didn't feel anything. He was so hallow and alone, he was ready to give up and die. There really wasn't a point to living like a stray dog on the street when things had yet to look up and that life was the only kind he knew; one of pain.

_No! Stop thinking that. This isn't all that bad. I may not know what worse than this is, but I'm sure it could be much worse._

_But even when I think that… these tears won't stop…_

"Excuse me, but are you okay?"

The sound that nearly echoed in his ears was a strange, foreign thing that for the first few seconds he couldn't understand. When he realized someone was speaking right next to him in the desolate alley. He looked up, wondering why someone had chosen his little corner to hold a conversation.

And he saw soft, gentle brown eyes gazing down at him.

He found himself staring at those soft nearly aglow eyes. There was something in them that he had forgotten, something that had made him wish all cold things didn't exist, but he couldn't remember what.

"Where are your parents?" the man asked him. The boy could hardly believe what he was seeing; someone had finally seen him, noticed him, and more than that-spoke to him. "An injured child like you shouldn't be out here on the streets all by himself in your condition."

Though he knew he was being spoken to, he couldn't seem to find his voice. For days he had spoken to no one but the reflection, saying one word: "_Tsureteitte_…"

The man took a step back, but his face wasn't horrified or wary like so many other faces had been when they'd seen him. There was an expression on it that the boy couldn't identify. He cocked his head at the man like a curious cat, his cold amber eye questioning him for an answer he thought would never come.

"Oh, boss! There you are!" Another man ran into the alley, standing beside the man with the gentle eyes whom had noticed his existence. "This town-my hometown it may be-is cold in more ways than one. You should know better than to wonder off without me or one of the boys with you."

"I'm deeply sorry," the man said, turning his head to speak to the other eye to eye.

The little boy looked from one to the other, his eye confused but waiting for those ever elusive answers. He really had been spoken to, right? So that meant the answers he wanted couldn't be that far. However, his hopes came crashing down as the man who had just joined the one that cared about him spoke again.

"I see you noticed The Unwanted," he said with the smugness and authority of those in the know. It was almost a bullying tone, but just off a few notes in the register adults used to not seem smug, arrogant, or childish.

Though his emotions were buried deep, somewhere deep inside he felt himself flinch, and the hot tears began to flow faster down his soaked cheek and collect under the thick bandage around his head whilst his facial expression never changed, their existence hidden away by the rain.

The kind man that had the something the child had forgotten about surrounding his entire being looked at his companion in surprise. "The Unwanted? What does that mean?"

The other man shrugged, only glancing at the boy the way someone would glance at an interesting stray dog. "Pretty much what it says: no one wants that child. He just showed up one rainy day and started living in the streets. He's mad, mute, and pretty much an animal."

The kind man didn't say anything, but a look on his face projected an expression that appeared to the boy that the man that had found him was having trouble speaking.

"It's best to leave him be," the other advised. "No good comes from that child. I'll see you back at the inn." With that the other turned on his heel and left, seeming to assume that in time his 'boss' would follow, whatever that word meant.

_'No good comes from that child.'… Maybe he's right…_

As the other left the alleyway back to the rain drizzled streets, the kind man knelt down, looking the little boy in the eyes, rather, eye in this poor soul's case, with that same thing he had noticed in them before that he simply could not place. "'No good comes from that child.' Now why would they say something like that about you? You look pretty harmless to me."

The boy looked down at his shivering knees, an odd feeling trying to break out of his icy shield that he was now doing his best to hold in place. "I don't know," he told the man in a voice that quaked from the cold. "I… I don't know anything."

The man's eyes widened, not in horror, but in curiosity. "Surely you know a little something. You seem fine in the head to me, despite what he just said about you."

"I…," the child looked back at his strange eyes. "I don't know who I am, or where I'm from… or… or anything. I'm just… _here_." The child touched his chest, indicating that he was just existing with no set thought of where or why.

"I… see," the man said, his eyes clouding slightly as he mulled something over in his thoughts. He looked back at the boy, a new kind of expression in them. "You said _tsureteitte_ when I first spoke to you. Do you know what that means?"

He nodded. "I don't know why… but I just said it when I saw you: _please take me away_…" He looked back at his hands, his eye confused under its ever cold glassiness. "I'm… sorry." Suddenly he felt like he had done something wrong when he'd said that to the man when he first saw him. For a while he wondered if the man had left because he didn't hear him speaking anymore.

_Maybe it really is better if I just go to sleep forever…_

"Would you like me to?"

The boy jerked his head back up, surprised both by the voice and the fact that the man was still there. "What?" he asked confused.

The man smiled. It was a kind smile, with that same something he didn't know but wanted. "Would you like me to take you away?"

He stared, his face finally melting enough to show his pure shock that someone was there in answer to his prayer to his reflection. Did he really want it? Wasn't it just a moment ago he had wished for his death to come?

"I… I…," he stopped as something in his voice made it hard to talk. It felt like this throat was too tight, the tears were coming faster than before, and he felt his brows furrowing under the strain of a strange emotion he hadn't braced himself for about to break free. Not trusting his voice to say anymore, he let go of his shivering legs, relinquishing what pseudo warmth he had gathered and lifted his arms to the man in that gesture all adults could identify as a request to be held.

The man's smile grew, and he leaned over, lifting the small soaked child into his arms and tucking him under the edge of his raincoat, realizing just how boney, wet, and cold his small body was. The boy wrapped his arms around the man's neck, holding tight and feeling a sensation flood his senses that he didn't know. It was the same something he had first noticed in the man's eyes when he'd first seen them looking at him without the cold distance.

_I understand now… what the thing is I saw in him that I wanted._

_He's **warm**._


	6. Family

**Tsureteitte**

**Tsubasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE**

**By Unfinished Song**

**Part 6: Family**

When he opened his eyes at first he was bewildered. The place he found himself waking in wasn't any of the alleys or streets he typically slept in. Though his vision was fuzzy he could see he was inside one of the windows he always looked into just by the sight of the golden glowing light fixture above his head. Turning his head so he could glance at the rest of the room he could make out the blurred shapes of a cabinet, a desk, and maybe what was someone sitting at it. He couldn't see any details about the room other than the most basic things since his sight was still too sleep fogged.

There was a strange feeling all around his body that was so soothing he found himself wanting to simply shut his eye again and surrender in it. He was still wet from the rain, but the cold was almost gone, and the water on his cloths had become an uncomfortable and unwanted presence. However it wasn't enough to make him surrender the new warmth he found in the soft blankets wrapped around him. He snuggled deeper into the sensation of softness and warmth, ready to disappear into his dark dreamless sleep again.

The person at the desk must have noticed him move and rose to change from a blur to a shadow leaning over him. The voice of the person asked in gentle warmth just as soothing as that which surrounded him, "How do you feel?"

"Mm…" The small boy pulled the covers tighter around himself with a soft positive affirming sound, wishing nothing more than to sleep.

"I know you're tired," the voice said in all its wonderful tenderness, "but if we don't get you out of those wet things and change the sheets you're going to get cold again." There was a soft trembling sound like bubbling water which he would later learn was called a chuckle. It sounded just as warm as the voice and the blankets and the golden light. "I just wanted to get you warm first since you were shaking so hard."

The boy groaned, very childishly hiding his head under the damp blanket. He didn't want to listen to the person since he'd never been so comfortable for as long as he could remember. Warm hands wiggled their way under his weak hold and pulled the covers down off from over his head, revealing the warm brown eyes that had seen him in the alleyway set in a face that always carried a faint smile hidden under the lips.

He really did want to reply to the warmth with a warmth of his own, but just as had happened when he first found himself in the cold city with the name The Unwanted he found he had no idea how. Instead, he spoke saying, "You're the one who said you'd take me away."

The man nodded, smiling at him as he pulled up a chair beside the bed the little boy was lying on. "That's right, and I intend to hold to that. I'm called Fujitaka."

The little boy sat up slowly, staring at the man with his uncovered eye. The cold harshness of his gaze was a great contrast to the rest of the room, but he could feel something else stirring inside him. He felt deep inside that he understood things just a little better than before, and that there was now a little bit of hope when there had been absolutely none at all. "Why are you called 'Fujitaka'?"

The man's smile grew even warmer, which the boy had thought wasn't possible until he saw it right then with his own eye. "Because that's my name," he answered.

The child's head lowered in thought, pulling up all he had learned of names in the street to understand how the man was called. "Fu-ji-ta-ka…-san? Is that right?"

Fujitaka nodded, rubbing his hand through the boy's hair in a gesture that the child felt was a good thing since it didn't hurt. It even felt a little bit nice. "That's right," he told him. His smile faded slightly as he looked the boy up and down then reached towards his bandaged right hand. "May I?"

Though it didn't show, the boy was frightened at the thought of anything touching his covered hand. He stared intently at where Fujitaka-san's hand hovered over it, waiting for permission. That right hand had hurt so much during his first days that he had babied it with extra care, being extra hard on his left hand to protect it and putting it through innumerable sprains and twists.

_He hasn't hurt me in anyway though. He took me away, and he's so warm…_

The boy nodded, throwing what worry and fear that had started to worm its way out of his heart back into its icy shield. He watched Fujitaka's hand closely as he took his right hand into his much larger one and used the other to slowly unwind the already lose bandages. The first few motions just showed filthy gauze with tatters and tears in it from the length of time it had been worn. The next layer was just off-white gauze where the bandages had been shielded for the most part from the elements, but the next layer started out a dark reddish brown shade and the bandages there seemed filthy: much filthier than the dirty ones that had started to come lose on the top layer. For a second Fujitaka paused, his smile fading away, but when his eyes met the emotionless gaze of the boy he let a soft smile grace his lips as reassurance and continued unwrapping the bandage until the layer caked in old blood came completely free.

The hand beneath was filthy, coated in a layer of browned crimson. The boy noticed that Fujitaka must have been prepared for something like this since he produced from the nightstand beside the bed a bowel of warm water and a wash cloth. He held the little boy's hand over the bowel he set to balance on his knees and gently glided the cloth over the grime slowly, careful so he wouldn't hurt the boy if there were still open sores under the thick layer.

The hand eventually came completely clean. Beneath the grim was a hand that must have been treated by a very skilled doctor. There were faint marks both pale white and puckered pink where wounds had healed, the pink ones having stitches in them that should have been taken out long ago once the cuts had shut. Fujitaka-san studied the small hand, gently turning it this way and that to see all the angles of its surface. He looked back to the boy, his warm eyes curious. "Do you remember who tended your hurts?"

The boy shook his head. "I fell on the road and couldn't get up, and when I woke up I was like this," he explained to the man.

"I suppose there are some things we never get to know," he said almost sadly. "Here." He guided the boy's body so that he was sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed then set the bowel on his lap. "Hold this carefully, and don't let it spill, okay?"

The boy nodded and did as he was told, wondering what the man--_no, Fujitaka-san_-he corrected himself--was planning to do next.

He saw Fijitaka-san reach up towards his forehead and work at the bandages around there that covered his eye until the two strands holding them in place came lose. "Just to be safe, close your eye."

Now the boy was more than just frightened; he was terrified. The eye had hurt by far the worst of any part of him that had been maimed when he'd first awakened on the endless road. Though he couldn't see what the man was doing he could feel the hands passing the gauze from one to the other as he slowly unraveled the work of the one that had tended to him during what he thought of as sleep. He focused on trying to stay calm, keeping his full trust in the man and concentrating on not shaking in fear or breathing too fast even though his heart was pounding so hard he felt like it was going to break out of his chest if it beat any harder.

Soon he could felt the pull where the bandage during each pass stuck to the old blood on his right eye. At that point he couldn't conceal his trembling and the water in the bowel rippled as he shook. He didn't want to feel that horrible sickening pain again. The thought of feeling even a whisper of the agony his eye had given him was nearly too much for him to bear.

Fijitaka-san's careful movements stopped. "Does it hurt?" He asked, having obviously noticed the trembling the little boy's body had started. "I'll stop and we can wait for the doctor to get here if it does."

"No, it's… it's not hurting," the child whispered, his voice shaking as much as his small body. He sounded like he was about to cry. "I'm… afraid. It hurt so much before."

He could almost feel the warmth of the man's smile radiate on him and one of his warm hands caressed his cool cheek. "It's alright to be scared," he assured in his constantly warm voice. "If it hurts at all just tell me so and I'll stop, or we can even stop now if you like."

The boy shook his head, the lose bandages swinging to and fro as he said, "No, I… I don't want to wear these anymore."

A strange sensation surrounded him as Fujitaka wrapped his arms around him and held him close for a short amount of time. The gesture was foreign to him, and confused him as to his meaning, but Fujitaka's arms were so gentle and caring around him it had to be a good thing, right? Somehow the simple motion calmed his trembling and made him not nearly as scared as he'd been before, almost as though it were some kind of magic.

It was the first time he had ever been hugged.

Fujitaka sat back and resumed his motions, slowing slightly to work the bandage free of the dried blood that was almost as adhesive as glue. The child could feel the pull with each tug but held his peace, knowing that though it was alright for him to be scared that there was no need for him to feel such with Fujitaka. Finally, the bandage fell away, leaving the simple patched wad of cotton gauze that was the main bandage shielding his eye. "Okay, I'm taking off this last piece, okay?"

His body almost started shaking all over again, but once again he reminded himself that everything was alright because Fujitaka had never hurt him. The patch pealed away with a dry pulling sound and he could feel the flakes of old blood pulling free and running down his cheek. The warm moist cloth touched his eye and glided over the filth, slowly with painstaking care washing it clean. When at last Fujitaka patted it dry without thinking the child opened his eyes.

"Looks like your eye healed up just fine," he said, smiling warmly as he was greeted by two spheres of amber instead of one.

The boy shook his head. "It's still the same," he said simply.

Fujitaka cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

Slowly the boy passed right hand over the eye, holding the fingers over it without touching his brow. "Like this… I can't see my hand. It's just like when it was still covered."

"Here. Let's see." The man's brows furrowed in curiosity and he gently took the child's chin and tilted his head towards the light. The left eye adjusted to the brightness of the light above quickly. However, the right iris didn't move as much as it should have, making the right eye not match. The most puzzling thing was that there were no wounds on or around the eye to indicate how such a heinous scar had come to be or what had been the source of all the dried blood. Unless someone noticed the lack of proper movement in the iris they would have assumed the child could see out of both his eyes. When Fujitaka looked closer he noticed a very slight milky glaze in the heart of the eye, but it was so faint that only when he looked up at light would anyone be able to see the mark behind the iris.

"Do you remember how your eye got like this?" he asked, releasing the child's chin and letting him look away from the fixture overhead.

Again the boy shook his head, the movement becoming common whenever Fujitaka asked a question. "I'm sorry." He felt bad that he couldn't answer any of the questions Fujitaka had asked him.

He smiled the smile that captivated the boy so much, resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. That was then and this is now." He paused as he thought of something. "Say, you need a name don't you?"

"A name?" he asked, his head cocked with curiosity.

Fujitaka nodded, his smile growing bigger. "That's right. How about 'Syaoran'?"

The boy stared, clearly not understanding.

"It's the name of a character in a story," Fujitaka explained. "At first, he was alone and cold like you, but found somewhere he wanted to be, a person he wished would take him away, if you will." His smile suddenly turned sad. "'The Unwanted' is such an ugly, cruel name. I don't want to call you that." He looked back to the boy's eyes. "Would you like to know why?"

"Why, Fujitaka-san?" the child asked shyly.

"Because I want you as my son: my family," he replied, his warm eyes becoming twinkling half moons as he smiled. "So if we're going to be family, you can call me 'father', okay?"

The boy didn't know what to say. At first he only stared at the man as though he had said something foreign. It was his eyes that answered as warm tears flowed down his emotionless face. Fujitaka stared in shock as the little boy started to cry silently for no apparent reason. He leaned forward, looking at the boy's unchanging face intently. "What is it?" he asked. "Did I say something to upset you?"

The boy sat the bowel aside on the nightstand, rubbing his face with his hands. "I… I don't know. My chest…," he paused with his hand resting atop where his heart was. "It feels so warm…"

Fujitaka blinked and then smiled as he understood, pulling the boy into a caring hug. "It's okay, Syaoran. Nothing is wrong.

"It's alright for your heart to be warm."


	7. Smile

**Tsureteitte**

**Tsubasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE**

**By Unfinished Song**

**Part 7: Smile**

It was times as peaceful as these that Syaoran often wondered if the cold city had all just been a bad dream. That time, though not so long ago, felt so far away now that he was living in the kingdom of Clow with Fujitaka. So much had happened it sometimes boggled his mind whenever he thought about it.

During the same night that Fujitaka had taken him in, cleaned his old wounds, and gave him clean cloths a doctor had come to see him. The elderly man had been surprised that 'The Unwanted' had been such a gentle and lonely child, or so he had overheard when the old man had stepped out to speak with his then soon to be father. He had taken out the left over stitches in his right hand and the soles of his feet and also gave him medications. One kind was to rub on his old scares to help them completely heal and another to fight infections that would be caused by his malnutrition. Other than those minor things, including a slight infection in the cuts of his feet, he had a clean bill of physical health.

What the doctor hadn't given him was a clean bill of _mental_ health. The child really hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the men were so close and he was so bored he had automatically tuned himself to listen in on what they were saying. He had said that Syaoran was something called 'traumatized', whatever that meant, and had said that only time would cure him of that. Poor Syaoran didn't understand what the doctor had meant and had somehow taken it that it meant he had to try real hard to be good for his new father. So he worked hard, stayed on his best behavior, and apologized too often.

But he never smiled. No matter what kindness he was exposed to, or what joy, not once had he smiled the entire time since he had been found. His father smiled so often, yet whenever he felt the urge to try it, it seemed like it was something he simply just wasn't able to do.

_Maybe I'll never remember how to smile…But I remember there were those times…_

It was around her: Sakura, Princess of Clow that he had felt the warmth in his chest grow until he felt like his heart was going to burst. The first time he had felt such tremendous warmth around the young princess had been after the Princess of Clow's birthday party. Fujitaka hadn't been able to attend, so he'd asked Syaoran to go in his place. Syaoran didn't know anything about how to act around royalty or even around other children his age, and for the whole dinner he had been extremely nervous, remembering to do his best and be on his best behavior.

He could feel the warmth growing as the princess talked to him, and told him how happy she was that he came to her birthday celebration, but then it almost disappeared when she asked him when his birthday was. Hiding his feelings at having to tell her, he told her of how he had no memories of where he was from, his real name, his birthday, or anything else about himself.

But she didn't pity him or say what a horrible thing it was for him to go through not having any memories or knowing his birthday.

Instead she said:

_"Then why don't we make my birthday yours, too! Syaoran's birthday will be the first of April, just like mine! That means that from now on, we'll celebrate together!_

_"Not just that… Maybe you don't remember what happened before, but I'll remember it for you! All the games you used to play… How you spent your time… All the great birthdays we celebrated together!_

_"Before long, you'll have lots of great memories!"_

He allowed his mind to drift on that thought as he helped his father go through his books of symbols. Fujitaka had found yet another unique marking in the wing monument he and his team were excavating and was attempting to find it or one similar to it in his collection of texts. Each book the boy located on the shelf he passed to his father, who in turn began to leaf through the pages for what he was looking for.

The door to their home suddenly burst open without so much as a knock, surprising Fujitaka into throwing the two books he had been looking through at the same time into the air. Syaoran deftly caught them before the old tombs could hit the floor and get damaged.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle the both of you," a breathless voice exclaimed.

Syaoran and his father looked up to see Princess Sakura standing in her doorway, an excited smile on her face.

"Good day, Princess Sakura! What brings you to our home for a personal visit?" Fujitaka greeted with a smile, rising to his feet. "Oh, first things first: calm down, and catch your breath."

The Princess shook her head violently, her lightly colored hair swishing back and forth with the motion. "No time! I'm sorry, but can I borrow Syaoran-kun for a minute, Fujitaka-san?"

Syaoran blinked, completely puzzled by the out of the blue request.

"Sure. He was just helping me out, but I can do the rest by myself," Fujitaka said cheerfully. "But have him home in time for supper, Your Highness," he reminded her.

"I will!" she vowed, grabbing Syaoran by the hand. "Come on! We have to hurry!"

"W-where are we going, Your Majesty?" he asked almost nervously.

"You'll see!" she said as she dragged him along at a run. "But we have to hurry! Come on!"

They ran through the streets, the Princess being unusually careless about the people around them. She didn't even pause as she threw apology after apology over her shoulder for each near collision.

_What's made her this excited?_

The streets widened, and soon they ran outside of Clow through the sands of the desert that surrounded the kingdom. They drew closer towards one of the ruins that were on schedule for excavation after the unique wing-like building was uncovered. Their small feet pounded up the steps as the Princess refused to slow and never let go of Syaoran's hand as she dragged him along.

"Syaoran-kun! Hang in there!" She assured him over her shoulder as they dashed up another set of the ruins steps. "It's only a little further!"

He was too confused at her sudden actions to really notice how tired he was becoming running, being too intrigued by her actions. Before he could ask where they were going, she shouted gleefully as they reached the top, "There they are!"

She dashed along the highest platform and let go of his hand, throwing her arms in the air laughing as hundreds of white birds flew just a few feet above.

They flew about and circled over the heads of the two children as Princess Sakura spun, watching them and laughing with joy all the while. "At this time of day, there are always a ton of birds flying by this tower!" she told him joyously. "They're so white and pretty…"

As her glee calmed she came over and took his hand. Her warm smile reached beyond the ice of his heart to a small place he had forgotten all about as she waved goodbye to the birds that broke off from the flock circling the tower. They went on to fly off towards the distant horizon to wherever their hearts led them. "…I just had to show you, Syaoran-kun!"

He turned to look at her, and she stared back, her face unable to hide her eagerness for his reaction. The warmth came again as she smiled at him expectantly and reached deep inside, creating a feeling almost like a weight being lifted off his chest, and the warmth wasn't just in his heart, but all through his whole soul. And from the depth of his now warm soul he said two words.

"Thank you."

And smiled.


	8. Epilogue: Take Me Away

**Tsureteitte**

**Tsubasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE**

**By Unfinished Song**

**Epilogue: Take Me Away**

"Um… you know… That thing I wanted to tell you?" Sakura stammered with her back facing Syaoran. "When we meet next, I'll tell you then."

"Oh. Okay." He didn't understand why she was so nervous. She had tried to hide it by speaking with her back to him but he could see the blush extending as far as her ears.

"I _will_ tell you," she assured, "so wait a bit. Okay?"

She'd dashed out the door before he could say anything else to her. He watched her go, the people in the streets greeting her as she passed with warmth and cheerfulness he hadn't gotten to see in his first memories.

But their warmth was a pale glow compared to her brilliant light.

"These emotions I'm feeling… can never be. Right, Father?" Though he was speaking to the photo of his deceased beloved father on the table by the window, his eyes were on Sakura as she greeted each person she saw in the street with a word and a smile. "We may have grown up together… but she's still a Princess."

* * *

**Please, take me away to the town of wind on the other side of time.**

_Toki no mukou kaze no machi e nee tsureteitte_

**Grant the wish of my pure, white flower.**

_Shiroi hana no yume kanaaete.

* * *

_

"I'm sorry."

Sakura looked surprised, then puzzled. "Why are you sorry?"

"Because Your Highness has a worry on her face," he explained sadly.

"Is it bad for people to worry?" Sakura asked with a quizzical tilt to her head.

Syaoran shook his head violently, knowing it was alright for people to worry or feel scared since Fujitaka had taught him such.

"Just now," he tried to explain, "when my father looked worried, I said 'I'm sorry', but he looked really troubled by it." His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't want to be a bother, but nothing seems to work."

"Listen." Sakura leaned over towards his ear and whispered, "If he's worried, instead of apologizing, try saying this-"

"I brought some tea." Just as Sakura whispered the word Fujitaka returned with tea for his son's lovely little guest. He looked to Syaoran with one of his warm welcoming smiles and said, "Be careful with that hand of yours."

He was scared to say it, but he trusted Princess Sakura, so he looked up at his father and said in his most sincere voice, "Thank you."

Fujitaka looked surprised, then quickly set down the tray and hugged his son. "You're welcome!"

Shocked at the sudden show of warmth, he looked at Sakura to see if this was supposed to happen.

She smiled.

* * *

**Grab me by the hand with your gentle fingers, and take me far away.**

_Amai yubi de kono te o tori nee tooi michi o_

**Guide me to your world, so I can be with you.**

_Michibiite boshi no anata no soba e.

* * *

_

"It must be really important for Her Highness to have me meet Her so late at night," Syaoran said, glancing around. "But is it really alright for me to be here?" It wouldn't be good if a guard caught him here since he would get in a lot of trouble and that in turn would get Fujitaka in trouble, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"Um… Syaoran-kun? Is it okay if I just call you 'Syaoran'?" young Princess Sakura asked.

Suddenly, being caught by one of the palace guards was the least of his worries as he stared at the Princess in surprise.

"My big brother says that if there is someone you especially like, you can call him by his name only!" she explained energetically. "And so… you can just call me Sakura!

"Okay? Syaoran?"

Again, like so many times in the presence of his friend, he smiled as her warmth reached inside him and was shared. "Okay… Sakura."

* * *

**Without even a whisper of your song, on this fateful afternoon**

_Sono utagoe sae nai hirusagari_

**two lovers awaken to become one.**

_Mezamete futari wa hitotsu ni nari_

**For the first time, they'll learn what true happiness is.**

_Shiawase no imi o hajimete shiru no deshou.

* * *

_

_"…Who… are you?"_

If the entire world could have been broken by just three words, then for Syaoran it did when Sakura had spoken those words when she first opened her eyes. His throat had closed and for a moment he had thought he might cry, but he forced it back. It wouldn't do any good for him to cry with Sakura so confused and not knowing what had happened to her. He forced his expression into a neutral face, and spoke formally to her as he once had when they had only known each other a short time, telling her why she was there.

_"You're doing this for a total stranger?"_

_His brows dropped and his expression saddened, but he quickly whipped it away and smiled for her. "I am," he replied._

Only for her could he smile while his heart was breaking.

Now he stood in the cold rain, the Kudan all around him offering their comforting presence. He didn't scream or wail or sob like most people would have in his situation. If anyone saw his face the most they could describe the expression as was 'forlorn'.

In the rain, no one would ever see the warm tears rolling down his cheeks.

_But… I can remember for her, and that's enough… right? All the games we used to play… How we spent our time… All the great birthdays we celebrated together…_

_The feelings I never shared. The promise she can never keep._

It was gone forever as the price to save Sakura's life. Now he was far away from the world he knew and more alone than he remembered ever being. It was true he had been alone in the beginning, but at that time he couldn't remember what it was like to be around people that cared about him.

People that made his heart warm.

He wished he could escape the pain, to run to a new place somewhere far from the hurt, but he knew he never would.

He would never abandon the one he loved.

That didn't stop him from glancing at a puddle at his feet and seeing his reflection stare back at him. His right eye gave an unnoticeable twang as the reflection seemed to change to something more. He once again voiced the wish of an unwanted, unloved child one last time before going down a new, harsh, endless road: a road he would only walk for the most important person in his life.

* * *

"**_Tsureteitte."_**

_**Take me away.

* * *

**_

"I have been meaning to ask: why did you interfere? Assisting him in such a manner is a bit much for us to do."

The young Chinese girl looked over her shoulder at her questioner, her eyes and face ever unreadable. "It was just something I wanted to do," she said simply.

"That is not a reason," he argued, his voice never rising but clearly showing that he was perplexed by her actions. "It may have been for our cause, but what spurred you to go to him and tend to his wounds that day?"

"It's just…," she looked up at the main source of light in the room; a glowing tube surrounded by runes holding the form of a boy within it, sealing his vast power away. "I wanted to see the day it happened. It never would have come to be if he died in that cold city."

Fei Wang seemed satisfied with that. "I see. So your actions were for the day when all the pieces come into play."

"No," she contradicted, smiling up at the sleeping other half of the one of whom they spoke.

The 'other' Syaoran.

She saw the mirror image's lips move, copying the wish of the one whose heart at that moment was so full of sorrow. Even though she could never hear his voice when she watched him like this, she had seen him say the same word enough to know what it was.

_Tsureteitte…_

"What I wanted to see, why I went to him and gave him that helping push by healing him, yet leaving him in that cold city with no clue as to who dressed his wounds," Xing Huo said, "was so I could see the day he became something more.

"I wanted to see the day he was taken away.

"I wanted to see the day he smiled."

_**FIN

* * *

**_

**Author's Notes**: This story was completed on May 19, 2006 at 2:05AM. Each chapter until this finale was re-edited before uploading for best quality. This started as a practice to get back into writing, but then it grew into something more. I'm very proud of the finished work I managed to create. Final edit was finished shortly before this chapter was uploaded.

The way Syaoran saw things when he first awakened is a factual representation of how someone with tunnel vision (proper term for total blindness) in one eye would see. A young woman I know has tunnel vision in one of her eyes, and she can't judge distances, hits curbs when she drives, and hurts herself a lot at work much like Syaoran does in the manga when he misses hits and can't judge depth.

The story Fujitaka mentions in _Family_ is a small cross over I tossed in. In the fairy tale, the person that warms the character Li Syaoran is Sakura Kinomoto/Avalon from Card Captor Sakura.

Taken from Volumes 8 and 9, when Syaoran looked at his reflection in two instances, one in each volume, his right eye had a reaction and CLAMP drew his image when this happens as being reflected in a nearby mirror over and over, almost refracting the image behind him. The instance in Vol. 8 was used as the theme for _Stranger In The Mirror_.

The above song uses the Live-evil & Dattebayo'sfan dubtranslation to the first verse of the OST Future SoundscapeII Track 9, and was the driving theme for Tsureteitte.

**This is my first complete story. The characters and settings mentioned herein are the property of CLAMP and their many publishers. The only thing I own is the basic way in which this story is told and is based on the many cryptic scenes given to us in the manga series about Syaoran's early life.**

**Special Thanks To**: Insanity Team, _the tangerine otaku_, and _Ginger Ninja_. Without your first reviews, this story would have been removed and left on my computer.

**To All Others**: **_THANKS FOR READING!_**


End file.
